


Oh mercy, I am so glad that you could come

by aliform



Category: Death Note
Genre: F/M, M/M, Tragedy, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 17:49:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4109665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliform/pseuds/aliform
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Misa is kidnapped by Matt and Mello. </p><p>These are scraps of something I never finished now thrown together in a mess—Of course it's going to end horribly—Mostly I am here for Misa—for showing her as capable and intelligent with her own set of skills, and peeling her away from Light was the perfect chance to do that. Misa's fascinating and I wanted to give her the breathing room to come into her own. </p><p>I think this is set in NY. I'm not really interested in dealing with canon peculiarities—this fic was started in 2008 and I am letting whatever canon facts scattered through it originally guide me. </p><p>Think of this as a character study. A really, really angsty one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh mercy, I am so glad that you could come

Misa coughed down her guilt like bile while wandering aimlessly through a corner grocery. Grit collected between the tiles on the floor; she shuffled errant scraps of paper with her heels as she meandered down the aisles. 

It wasn't like the fights were abnormal, they were becoming so routine that they now had their own expected rhythm and winner. 

Misa felt protected by the banality of the store and its few customers. They would not search for her here. Still, she was at the back away from the windows listening to some acerbic conversation between the night shift and watching the snow fall. 

Every chime of the door's bell drove her deeper until she was in some wasteland of ice cream and pizza. Soon the interested glances of the employees made her feel conspicuous even with cashmere swathed over her face with mink-trimmed hood framing, strands of dirty gold streaming down the front of her jacket. 

"'S'cuse me." With the voice (deep, scarred with smoke) came the smell of gasoline and wind and cigarettes and the perfume of it was ethereal enough in the world she was now confined to that she openly watched the boy move past her to linger over the selection of jerky. 

Combat boots and cheap jeans. Leather motorcycle gloves explained the smell of wind, still sharp in the musty air of this place. A few chunks of hair were bunched from the leather strap of the almost eccentric choice of neon-lensed goggles still firmly around his head. She could just make out the shape of him under his apparel but her mental perusal was interrupted by an ancient woman almost ramming Misa into a display stand, and he was gone around the corner. 

The woman sent her dirty look and Misa responded with a smile made of frost before her eyes snagged on more leather. The guy with the goggles was dismissed at the complication with the hag, and then entirely forgotten at the sight in front of her. 

He was gorgeous. All the cliched descriptions of _blond_ , cornsilkflaxspungoldchampagne _whatever_ , none quite surrendered themselves to the creation before her. The leather hugging his hips slipped down his legs as tight as water before disappearing into boots and the twin of Misa's scarf had been pushed down to show off the elegant face. With every movement of his head the shower of light that was his hair rippled, and he carelessly brushed his long bangs out of his eyes before snapping at someone beyond her vision.

She jumped when the voice made of smoke came from her left. 

"Are you getting any of those?"

Misa remembered that she was gripping the thin metal of the display case full of razors she'd almost toppled earlier. 

"Ah...no, sorry." 

"S'okay." She obediently moved, but the boy brushed against her in his haste to grab handfuls of the disposables and Misa blushed behind her scarf and lingered close enough to feel his body heat. This was Light's fault for having never cared. 

"I like your scarf." It was toned entirely different than a compliment and Misa halted. 

"Excuse me?" 

He was still holding a package of razors. Misa had the thought that if she did not cooperate then the razors would no longer be in the package, and as if to confirm the creeping dread of that the door kept chiming. She automatically remembered that there were three cameras in the store and a police station half a block south-west. Had L really ingrained himself into her mind at such a depth? She didn't dare look around for employees while her eyes held his. 

"Your scarf's pretty." It came abashed, gentle.

She was getting so paranoid. "Thanks! I like your accent." 

He seemed wary now. "Thanks. I was raised in England." 

Duh. Misa tightened her perfect smile and looked up at him through thick lashes. "Do you live around here?" 

An abrupt nod. He began walking towards the checkout and it gave Misa a chance to look around. Yes, nothing but their steps and some dreary ballad on the overhead speakers. No blonde, no employees, not even someone stocking even though it was late. 

This had been a mistake, and she was following the danger right out the door. But the boy was talking and she didn't know which was more dangerous—to bolt or feign ignorance of the situation—

"Yeah, just a few blocks north of here. You?"

" _No_." 

She wasn't answering him. 

The cashier had been replaced by the blonde, who was glaring at the redhead and twirling a pistol around one elegant, gloved finger. 

"Cut the flirting and hurry up." Misa didn't understand the German. She remained frozen next to the gossip rags and her eyes never left the gun. 

"I'll take it where I can get it." Matt dumped everything he'd been carrying into a plastic bag.  

"Why are you guys kidnapping me?"

Mello cracked a smile, bright and wide. "She's talking. Make her stop talking before I leave you to continue your amorous tryst in jail."

Matt shrugged, annoyed. He switched to Japanese. "Come on, Amane."

"I, I..."

Again, German. "If she goes into shock you're dragging her out." 

"Shut _up_ , Mello."

"Your name's Mello?"

They both looked at her. She was staring at Mello, slightly swaying, eyes hooded and seductive. Matt coughed to hide his laugh. With something twisted between a sneer and a grin he left the two of them. A blast of wind from his exit frothed Mello's hair. Misa was merely entranced, forgetting the gravity of the situation. 

"It's just that Mello really contrasts with a guttural Eastern European language so I assumed it was a name. Am I wrong?" 

Mello shot a bullet through the No Loitering sign and Misa promptly shut her mouth. She felt drugged, surreal, days upon days of spreadsheets and white walls and Matsuda's ramblings and the smell of cake sometimes still...this was magical compared to the endless trance she'd just escaped. All fear was gone. 

"That was needless."

He was coming at her from around the counter. She continued to babble, wondering if she was going into shock."I command a beginning ransom of ten million, being the fiancé of the greatest detective in the world." His hand on her arm tightened at that. She was too heady to even catch it, or even comprehend the fact that they were now outside. A combination of snow and night had hushed the city into nothing more than a purr of activity that faintly rose to her ears. "And we're both wearing Chanel scarves. Isn't that fate? And my fiancé doesn't lace up his crotch in Diesel. I think every boy should lace-oof."

A gun to the side of her head and the blonde disappeared in a waiting car. She was left alone with the redhead on the street corner and he wasn't talking. 

The smell of exhaust from the cars occasionally flooding the street with light slightly grounded Amane as she was pushed onto the back of a Buell. Her arms automatically went around Matt, even though he was facing her, and he tried to shove her head into a helmet but she still wasn't quite all the way mentally there and the action was incredibly irritating, a distraction. "I think that when we get there I need to shave my legs with the razors the other one got because my shoot on Monday requires, oh, I have to get a wax too so if that can be arranged then I usually see Jennifer at Salon Vavvö and I may need a facial and all my dietary supplements are back at the apartment and I'll need clothes to sleep in—"

Matt made soothing little noises in his throat. His fingers were persuasive, gentle, and soon she was sobbing and letting him snap the helmet tight. "It's okay, it's okay," he kept chanting in toneless whispers. He repeated it until she wouldn't stop nodding and he finally turned, waiting until she was pressed against his back and then they were moving. She clutched tighter with a hiccup before shutting her eyes and disregarding any desire to mentally trace their route. Her apathy, she realized with an acid satisfaction, was not from shock. Light deserved this for having never loved her. It was all too easy to imagine him tearless over her grave. At that thought she was released from any shackling feelings of hope. If this was to be her last gasp as the human known as Amane Misa she would do it with the full knowledge it had not been for _him_. 

The drive was long enough that it calmed and Misa's thighs went numb till she focused on breathing and her body began to relax. The comfort she was taking in the warmth of Matt's body gave her enough self-disgust to distract from paying attention to more than the falling snow.  

This was not what she had been expecting when they stopped. The suburban mansion was regal in the harsh moonlight, at once austere and inviting. Her legs were humming from the bike and Matt had to peel her off before unpacking the saddlebags. She was hugging herself, dumb, watching the wind make drifts with the fresh powder. 

"Come on, Amane." This was so much worse than screaming. If she tried to fight he could just drug her but this laxity, this utter passivity was breaking him. 

It came staccato. "I was expecting a bohemian hovel. Mattress in the corner for me. Like that." The adrenaline was waning and she'd be exhausted soon. "I didn't expect you to have money." 

He felt very young next to her, right then. 

"My boss's friends put him up like this." He stood beside her now. 

"You're not a boss?"

"Not in the same way." A gentle push but she didn't move. Instead, she looked at him with pity, then began vocally counting stars. 

He yanked off a glove with his teeth and slipped his bare hand under her jacket, beneath her shirt, against the the small of her back. Skin against skin was enough to startle her into walking and he kept his hand firmly in place until she was in the vaulted foyer. This selfishness of his inappropriateness would probably cost him once she came to her senses but for now it was simply a tactic, and it worked. 

Mello sneered around Godiva. "Took long enough."

"Did you want her to fall off? I had to calm her down before we could even bolt." He was kicking off his boots. 

Mello sniggered. "Was she that worked up about my—"

"I smell rice!" The listless being leaning against the wall brightened slightly like a reviving flower. "I can smell rice cooking! Like home! I hate New York." Then she was crying again, face in her hands. 

"Bedtime, darling." chirruped Mello. "Matt will show you to your room."

Misa shook her head, the wails now echoing in the huge space. Mello rolled his eyes. "Thanks, Matt. Come see me once you're done tucking her in. I'd do it but she'd probably rape me."

Matt laughed, but it was empty, and he distracted Misa with several tissues and she was wiping her face and shredding them into bits before she realized he had her up the grand staircase and in a small suite. 

Just looking at the bed made her legs give. Matt caught her arm, trying to be patient with himself. 

"You're used to cameras. At least you counted all the ones in the store. There's cameras everywhere in here and we have a rotating shift monitor them so don't do anything." She nodded blearily before puddling onto the floor. 

Matt walked over to the TV and pressed several buttons on its side. Instantly, all the lenses sending feedback of their every pore were blind. "And Mello was talking about getting you a maid while you're here. We know you have a PA with your job so..." 

Her breath was coming shallow, but he didn't think she was going to hyperventilate. The covers were pulled down and he lifted her to her feet. 

"This is nicer than our new suite," she mumbled.

 _Our_. Matt wondered how close the world's greatest detective wasn't to tracking down his future bride. If Mello was right than he'd be torn between coming after her and letting her rot within her new cage, the one that now replaced white walls and the smell of stale cake, and then the pressed and shined smell of offices. That suite was probably a cage too. It was _theirs_ , and she hadn't slept there once in a month and five days. 

She stood there, rocking slightly back and forth.

" _Oyasumi_ , Misa," he said. 

She didn't stir. Her eyes didn't even move from the pillows on the bed. 

Sometimes he hated himself for actually having a heart. Her jacket was thrown onto a chair, her scarf soon followed, and she remained apathetic to Matt cursing Mello as he peeled off her dozen rings before beginning on the bracelets. The necklaces he let drop where they stood. The earrings were placed carefully on the chair. An occasional sigh told Matt she was still functioning. 

Then he guided her to sit at the foot of the bed (Misa promptly flopped onto her side, lips parted) and heels and socks joined the rest of her discarded ensemble.

Again, "...Goodnight, Misa."

She shut him out, eyes finally closing. 

Then he was gone to Mello. 


End file.
